


weren't once, never will

by notgonslave (wedontslave)



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, F/F, One-Sided Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedontslave/pseuds/notgonslave
Summary: "Or maybe you were never the Unholy Trinity. You were simply the third wheel." Unrequited Quinntana
Relationships: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	weren't once, never will

You do what you always do – watch from a distance.

You remember the first time you met Brittany and Santana. That was when your family moved to a new city. You were eleven. Six years too late.

Brittany and Santana met when they were five. They have been attached to the hip ever since. They now have a legal document that signifies them being together. To them, it is a promise of eternity and everlasting love. To you, it is a nail to the coffin for your hopes and dreams.

You really wish you took the chance when you had one. Now you don’t.

You remember the short while when Santana and Brittany weren’t together. It was when Brittany had to repeat her senior year. That was the prime opportunity.

The time when you and Santana had a one night stand. You didn’t know it then, but that was the best night of your life. It may have been a drunken haze for the both of you, but you remember every touch, every caress. For Santana it may have been a little bit of fun, a warm body to sate her needs. For you, it was so different. It was making love.

You didn’t know what love was until it was too late.

You thought you loved Finn. You thought you loved Puck, Sam. That wasn’t love. It was mere attraction. They can’t take care of you; make you feel better when you are down. You could never see yourself spending the rest of your life with them.

Nothing you ever had compares to what Brittany and Santana have. You struggle to recall a time when they weren’t together ever since you guys met. With one, comes the other.

They are a package deal. For that, you are infinitely jealous.

You don’t know when you started to love Santana. Maybe you always had. It just took you too long to realise it. Her gorgeous smile. Her laughter is like music to your ears. Her sassy demeanour. She’s perfect.

You watch as Santana and Brittany’s hands are clasped in each other’s as the priest starts to drone. You tune out what they are saying as, with every second, one shard breaks from your heart. It breaks until there is nothing left. Just that gaping hole that will never be filled.

Santana is not yours. She will never be yours.

She had invited you to be her maid of honour. You can’t do anything but accept. After all, you had been best friends since you met them. You were the Unholy Trinity. However, as the years went by, that slowly shifted more and more to Brittana and Quinn. Or maybe, upon second thought, you were never the Unholy Trinity. You were simply the third wheel.

The flower looks bleak in your hands. Isn’t this supposed to signify hope, an everlasting relationship? Sure, for Brittany and Santana, this ceremony is a symbol for them being together for eternity. For you, it means nothing but pain, pain, pain.

A funny idea, pain is. You had grown so accustomed to it that you no longer feel it. You just felt numb.

However, you can’t possibly feel numb now. Not when your best friend, your _love_ , is kissing another woman, another blonde right in front of you.

You just want to cry, as you weakly clutch the white flower to your chest. But you must not. You don’t want to ruin their wedding, as much as you hate the woman that the love of your life had picked over you.

To be fair, you never stood a chance. They were built for each other, and you were just a temporary stand-in while Santana was dealing with her heartbreak with the aforementioned woman.

Brittany. You know that you said you hated her, but you hate yourself even more for not being able to hate her. She is everything that you aren’t. You can’t hate her. No one can. She is too kind, too friendly, too pristine for anyone to hate.

Yet, you find yourself wanting to tear her away from Santana’s arms and rip her face apart yourself.

You feel conflicted. You feel angry at yourself for letting the best thing that had happened to you slip away. You feel the anguish of watching the love of your life getting married right in front of your eyes. It is almost like someone dangling a slab of raw meat in front of a starved lion. Teasing. Taunting. Never satisfying.

The priest’s voice is a faint buzz in your ear. You feel your eyes start to glaze, but you force the tears inside.

Today is meant to be a day of happiness for the newlyweds, and even you are not evil enough to ruin that. You would never forgive yourself if Santana hated you for ruining the best day of her life. You don’t think that you can live with that. You just want to cling onto any part of Santana that she is willing to give you. If that is simple friendship, then so be it. You’ll just hurt on the inside.

After all, you deserve it. Hurting people is your specialty. You have done it way too much in high school, in your mad pursuit to get to the top of the social ladder. Look what that got you. Fucking jack shit.

Yes, you deserve to be hurt. You hurt Finn for cheating on him. You hurt Sam for cheating on him. You hurt Rachel by your unprovoked, relentless bullying. Most importantly, you hurt Santana for throwing her under the bus, betraying her trust in your climb to the top.

You regret telling Coach about her summer surgery. That literally accomplished nothing, except shatter your friendship. It has thankfully mended itself somewhat, but you know that Santana had been deeply hurt by your betrayal.

You’re so sorry for what you did. Sometimes, what you think is important blinds you.

You close your eyes and suck in a shaky breath. It’s done, they’re married. You can’t possibly stand watching them lock lips. It hurts too much.

Funny that you thought you had a high tolerance of pain. After all, you have given birth before. While that hurt a lot, this hurt ten times worse. Maybe twenty times. It is like all the mist that numbs the pain all this time had suddenly cleared, the pain and anguish hitting you at full force.

Through the murky fog of tears, you see your hopes and dreams float away from you, slowly, elevating until it disappears from sight. They are dashed. There is no hope now.

Oh yeah, there’s the dance.

Your heart shatters again at the sight of your two best friends looking like they are having the time of their lives, on the dance floor.

Brittany is better than you at dancing. Yep, you never had a chance. Santana is so smitten by her that all you are to her is another warm body that sated her needs that one night, a friend that she is needing less and less as now all she needs is the other blonde.

You are the wrong blonde. Always were, always will be.

They look so happy, swaying, lost in each other. Meanwhile, you are standing in the corner, subconsciously swaying to the beat with the lone flower in your hand.

You don’t know that a tear had escaped your long lashes and is now trailing down your left cheek until someone pointed it out.

“Quinn, are you okay?” You turn around, to face the person that talked to you.

You now realise that you aren’t invisible. Santana doesn’t see you. She never will.

“I’m fine, Mike,” you smile through your tears. “I’m just so happy for them.”

You are a good actress. After all, all you’ve done is put up a brave face for your image and your status in high school, ignoring all the pain that you had when your parents disowned you and all the inner turmoil that you experienced through the years that you must admit made you a little crazy. It’s okay though. When you ignore your pain for so long your brain no longer thinks it’s there.

Except now that filter has suddenly disappeared and your broken heart clenches so hard that you feel like you are going to have a heart attack.

“I’m really happy for them too,” Mike smiled, as they watched the happy couple laugh after Santana accidentally steps on Brittany’s foot. “They were always meant for each other. I knew it ever since I met them.”

Who knew that those words could hurt so much? It was never Santana and Quinn. It was always Santana and Brittany. You’re not going to hold that against Mike, though. He knows nothing about how you feel about the perfect brunette. No one knows.

“I guess,” you mumble because it was true. You never stood a chance.

You don’t know how you managed to get through a whole hour of torture, watching the newlyweds acting all couply and lovey-dovey with each other. Your stomach flips and turns constantly, and it was horrible.

You feel that if there was actually any food inside your stomach, you would throw up.

“Hey Quinn!” comes the sweet voice that you can’t find yourself to hate. You turn around and a curtain of blonde hair catches your eyes.

You try your best to muster up a smile. Although you feel like something more like a grimace came onto your expression. “Hey, Mrs Lopez-Pierce,” you grit out.

Brittany does not catch the spite that was etched into those words. Her eyes brighten up at being addressed like that.

“Thank you for being our maid of honour,” she enthuses. “Really, there’s no better person than you for this role.”

“No, thank _you_ , it was an honour,” you reply politely, trying your best to keep up your façade. “You two were always meant for each other,” you say, quoting Mike’s words.

Brittany beams from ear to ear. “Thank you!” she squeals, doing small leaps and exerting so much energy and exuberance that you don’t find it that hard to smile.

That’s the thing you hate. Even though you harbour deep jealousy for the blonde before you and you want to hate her with passion for stealing the love of your life from you, her simple innocence and jovial personality make that impossible.

Except, she didn’t steal Santana away from you. Santana was never yours. You know that.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

**Author's Note:**

> Are there still Glee fans out there? Or is the fandom dead for good now :/


End file.
